


Unexpected

by Torched22



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/pseuds/Torched22
Summary: Aziraphale gets an unexpected visit from Crowley that leaves him reeling.





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale hadn't been expecting Crowley, so when the shop bell rang and the doors opened to the outside world, revealing that familiar rain-soaked face, he wasn't sure how to feel. His friend was a fan of spontaneity, but even so, he rarely dropped by uninvited...unless there was an emergency. 

"Is everything alright?" he set down the book that was in his hand and walked towards the black-clad figure. 

"Yes...everything's fine," he shut the door behind him. "I was just in the neighborhood and I wondered if you would like to have a bottle of wine with me," he held up an expensive red and smiled. 

"Any special occasion that I've missed?" Aziraphale asked. 

"Can't we continue to celebrate that the world hasn't ended?" 

"I suppose," the angel smiled, but it wasn't his broad enthusiastic smile. Something felt...off. He wasn't sure if it was himself or Crowley or the world at large, but some odd feeling lodged into his chest. The nagging sensation only grew as he noticed that Crowley had on different sunglasses than he usually did. 

"New shades?" he asked, walking around his friend to lock the shop doors and turn the sign to "Closed." It was nearing 9:30 at night and a great storm rumbled outside. 

"Yes, I rather fancy them," the demon said, running his index finger and thumb along the frame. 

"They don't cover your eyes from the sides though," he took the bottle and carried it farther into the book shop, towards where the crystal wine glasses were stored. 

"Maybe not, but it's dark out now, so who cares?" 

The angel uncorked the bottle and let his eyes slip shut as he sniffed the lip. "Smells wonderful, I bet it would be delectable with some dark chocolate."

"You're in luck," Crowley flexed his hand and summoned a good sized bar of delicatessen dark chocolate. 

Aziraphale squeaked, "did you just...you miracled that up? Just because I mentioned it?" 

"Sure, why not? What's the use of having such powers if I never use them for anything?" To punctuate his point, he summoned himself dry. "And it's not a miracle...I don't do those...unless you've forgotten. I'm no angel." 

The blonde nodded and swallowed, pouring the wine and handing a glass over to Crowley. Their fingers briefly touched, but oddly...Aziraphale did not feel the usual spark that such light touches elicited in him. Something was certainly off. 

"Something wrong?" Crowley sat on the sofa wedged into a corner and took a long sip. 

Shoot, his expressions were so open. His face must have given away the dialogue churning in his mind.

"No, no," the angel drank his wine and awkwardly looked around.

"I don't bite you know," his friend patted at the sofa. Feeling obligated somehow, Aziraphale glided towards him and sat on the ornate antique sofa. 

"How was your day?" 

Aziraphale's brows knitted almost imperceptibly at the odd question. Their conversation wasn't flowing as it normally did - with ease. The question felt forced and out of place. 

"My day was fine. I sold some books, travelled to perform a miracle, and travelled back. How was yours?" he sat stiffly, feet flat on the floor, knees together, wine warming in his hands as he held the glass rather than the stem like he was supposed to. Crowley didn't even notice...didn't even snap at him for ruining the chemistry of the red with the body heat emanating from his palms. 

"Oh you know...I tempted some people. Did some light afternoon scheming."

To that, Aziraphale smiled faintly, the first grin he had offered up during the exchange thus far. 

"Aren't you glad the world didn't end? You should be in a fantastic mood," his friend put a hand on his shoulder, pulling himself up from his sprawl to sit closer to Aziraphale. 

"I am in a fine mood. I suppose I'm just tired after today's activities," he smiled, but it was hollow. He couldn't shake the way that Crowley's eyes analyzed him from behind his new shades. That was odd as well, since the man typically took his glasses off when it was just the two of them.

It startled Aziraphale to feel Crowley's knee and leg pressed against his own, they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder. Instead of the warm fuzz of arousal that Crowley's presence typically sent sprawling through his body, he felt...observed, scrutinized. 

"Don't you like me anymore?" the demon whispered, hurt laced into his voice.

He wasn't sure how to respond.

"We do make odd bedfellows, don't we?" he took another long gulp and the angel watched his red stained lips, the curve of his throat as he swallowed.

"You're acting quite odd Angel," Crowley reached up and finally took the sunglasses off. He tossed them onto a nearby table and stared at the other with his golden, snake eyes. 

"I don't mean to be," he said sincerely. 

"Perhaps your work today left you too wound up. That's how you seem - wound up," he popped the 'p' as he tilted Aziraphale's glass to the angel's lips, encouraging more sips. Aziraphale drank the liquid down and tried not to fidget. "Maybe I could help you relax?" 

"I thought that's what the wine was for," he grinned. 

"The wine is a nice start, but I can think of even nicer things," Crowley's hand was on his knee now. 

Aziraphale tried to clear his throat, but it came out more like a choked cough. This time, he did squirm, but not enough to rid his leg of the hand. Crowley's long, tan fingers, rubbed at his knee, then began travelling farther north. 

"Crowley, what on Earth are you doing?" 

"Touching you Aziraphale, don't you want me to touch you?" 

No answer came to the angel's lips. He had often dreamt of Crowley touching him, even his lightest, most innocent glances of contact, had a stirring effect on him. But all he felt at the moment was fear and confusion. 

Crowley set his glass down and disappeared his clothing with a snap. Aziraphale, caught completely off guard, dropped his wine glass and heard the crystal shatter. His friend snapped again, and the glass came together, wine in it and all, and was on a nearby table.

Aziraphale stumbled to breathe. Crowley was beautiful. Lithe tan body, well-defined muscles, a nest of flaming red hair at the base of his swollen cock. He was standing in front of him, cock about at his eye level. The angel stared it, his cheeks burning with a flush that ran down his entire chest. He'd never seen a hard penis before. Had never had sex. 

"This um...this isn't the kind of thing angels do Crowley."

The devilish figure in front of him only grinned and walked closer - he knealt on the floor in front of the seated angel. His breathing was heavy and his left hand went to Aziraphale's thigh as his right hand stroked his own hardness. 

It was a sight that would forever be burned into Aziraphale's mind. 

"This is not the sort of thing you and I do."

"Well, what do we do then? Just save the world and drink? Not having any fun with each other's lips and hands and cocks?" 

Oxygen seemed to have left the room. Aziraphale felt light headed and his own penis was hard and straining in his pants. Luckily though, Crowley couldn't see it rise, nor had his hand made its way there yet. 

"Wh...why are you doing this?" Aziraphale asked, confusion scrawled all over his features. 

"Because I want you, more than anything. I love you Aziraphale, don't you love me back?" 

He couldn't answer. The words were trapped between his ribcage somewhere. 

The snake-eyed seducer stood and placed his arms on either side of Aziraphale's shoulders. He leaned forward, giving Aziraphale a clear view of his rippling abs and prostrate cock that was now leaking onto the angel's trousers. He moved forward, closer and closer, until Aziraphale realized that Crowley was about to kiss him.

"What the fuck!" 

A voice came from off to the left. It was a familiar voice. Both Aziraphale and Crowley turned their heads at the exact same time, their eyes falling upon...Crowley. 

Mouth agape, the angel stared at the naked friend hovering above him. The seducer stood up, snapped his clothes back on, and as the Crowley off to the side began rushing towards him, the seducer whispered something and vanished altogether. 

There was no puff of white heavenly smoke, nor hellish black smoke. He was just gone. 

Crowley...the real Crowley, Aziraphale supposed, stared at the void shocked. He was soaking wet and wearing his usual glasses. His face was twisted with fury and confusion and dismay. He looked at Aziraphale. "Are you alright?" 

"Are you the real Crowley?" It was a stupid thing to say, but the words came out nonetheless. 

"Of course I'm the real Crowley," he screeched indignantly. His hands went up to his head and pulled at the soft red locks there. "What the hell is going on? Who was that? He looked just like me and...he was naked and...hard..."

"Hard?" 

"Yes! Erect, his cock was..." he gestured, then dropped his hand, color draining from his face. 

"Did he hurt you?" the words came out monotone and emotionless. Deadly weight behind them.

"No, no, he didn't," Aziraphale shook his head. 

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. 

A tear slipped down Azirpahale's face and Crowley watched the shining droplet fall. 

"I'm so sorry Aziraphale," he fell to his knees and wiped away the tear. That familiar hum of warmth shot through Aziraphale at the contact. 

"What did I do when it started raining, at The Garden?" 

"You put your left wing over me," he replied softly.

"Okay," his voice shook. "It is you."

"Yes it is. And I'm going to kill whoever that was."


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale's throat felt knotted and unshed tears pricked at his eyes. His lip quivered and he squirmed where he sat. Crowley, his Crowley, knelt at his feet and looked so stricken. He hated that he had put that look on his face. The swell of tears became overwhelming and Aziraphale could no longer hold the dam back. Fat droplets slid down his cheeks and fell onto his waistcoat.

"Ah, angel, what can I do? Pl-please tell me? I just...I just want to make things better..."

Aziraphale's hands were wrapped in a tight knot in his lap and his mind was racing uncontrollably. There were so many conflicting emotions coursing through him. Hearing -who he had believed to be Crowley- say and do those things had unscrewed a very tightly secured Pandora's box that lived in the back of the angel's brain. It had taken so much willpower not to engage the demon...romantically...sexually...ever since WWII. He rarely ever allowed himself to think of Crowley in those terms because it was simply too painful. Not only was he terrified of losing his precious friendship, but he was panicked at the notion of their respective offices destroying them completely. He'd never risk it. He couldn't.

And in one moment, one instance, that imposter pulled at all the strings until Aziraphale felt his resolve unraveling. He had grown so hard, so very hard, as the imposter propositioned him. His lankily muscled body and jutting cock remained burned into the angel's brain. Maybe he could just miracle it away? Forget? And yet, something rose up in his chest in panic at the notion. That only scared him more. 

Why? Why would he even hesitate to erase the naked demon's body from his mind? How depraved was he? That wasn't even his Crowley...just a phantom wearing his skin.

"Talk to me, please," Crowley begged. 

Aziraphale was still hard in his trousers and shame threatened to smother him. He moved his hands to rest on the top of his thighs and Crowley's eyes slid down his body, catching his arousal. 

The angel was so tempted to lean forward, cup Crowley's face in his hands and bring their lips together. He inwardly admonished himself for such thoughts, adrenaline spiking in his stomach. That imposter...he said that he loved him...in Crowley's voice...and Aziraphale wondered briefly if he would ever recover. 

It wasn't real. Crowley didn't want him like that. He found himself speared by unparalleled heartbreak. He choked a sob as more tears rolled down his face. 

The real Crowley, his beloved, was lifting his hands, but they hung in suspension because he wasn't sure where to put them. Oh, how desperately the angel wanted to be touched. It was so unfair. And he didn't want to miracle away his arousal - he couldn't. Heaven would be keeping closer tabs on his miracles now that...now that he and Crowley were on their own side. Maybe they hadn't been paying careful attention before, but they surely would be now. And how embarrassing would it be for them - for Gabriel - to open up a report that read... Aziraphale, Principality: miracled away erection. It made his cheeks flame.

Crowley's long, tan body kept popping up in his mind's eye and he groaned. Were things ruined between he and his friend now? Because of this?

"S-should I back off? Give you time?" Crowley asked tentatively. 

"No!" Aziraphale said a bit too quick. The thought of being left alone right now was unbearable. But he didn't want to ask Crowley to touch him, no matter how desperately he wanted that. It just wasn't fair of him to request, especially since none of this was Crowley's fault. 

"I...I'd like to touch you - your hands..." he clarified quickly. "Can I?" 

His angel nodded and Crowley brought the palms of his hands to rest upon the tops of Aziraphale's that lay perched on his thighs, on either side of his trapped erection. He watched in utter fascination as the angel's eyes slid closed and his mouth parted. He looked rapturous. He ached to touch, to taste, to soothe. And behind all of that syrupy warm affection, beneath the layers of care and concern for his angel, burned the attraction that had threatened to kill him for millenia.


	3. Chapter 3

"Please tell me what I can do angel...how can I help?" 

Aziraphale bit his lower lip with force as he considered how pathetic he must seem in this moment. He took a shaky breath in and shifted uncomfortably. How could he bring himself to tell Crowley that he'd never...he'd never even...touched himself? Not in 6,000 years. Not ever. Sometimes he didn't even make an effort...but somewhere along the way, he had grown accustomed to having a penis. It made his trousers seem to fit better and well, as silly as it may sound, he liked having it around. 

In the past...if he had an interaction with Crowley that left him...aroused...he wold just miracle away the arousal, or the effort altogether. 

"I don't know what to do," he said so quietly that Crowley barely caught it. 

"What do you mean? You mean about whoever that was? Oh, don't worry about it angel, I'll have his head." 

"No, that's not what I meant." 

"Then...what do you mean? You don't know what to do?" 

"About..." he let out a pained sound and slid his right hand out from under Crowley's to bring it to his arousal. Brushing his hand against it made tingles course over his flesh. "I don't just want to miracle it away...Gabriel will see."

Crowley blinked very slowly, his lips parting, breath coming slower than a crawl. "Y-you never... you've never...ah..."

"No, I've never masturbated."

"Oh," Crowley's lips remained an 'o.' He wasn't going to admit that what he'd expected the angel to say was that he'd never had sex. But to never have even touched himself? His mind struggled to wrap around this revelation. 

"You've never wanted to?" his voice was small and tight. His heart clenched in his chest as his mind screamed at him: of course he's never fucked his hand while thinking of you. 

Something in Crowley's chest fractured at this thought. 

How many times had he returned from dinner dates, from drinking sessions, from time spent with the angel and stumbled to whatever hovel he called home, desperately reaching for his fly. How many times had he come with Aziraphale's holy name on his darkened lips? All the while thinking that maybe...just maybe...the angel was doing the same. 

But he wasn't.

"I have - wanted to..." Aziraphale spoke, breaking Crowley's internal analysis. "But could we maybe...have this conversation later? I'd...I'd like to know what to do..." 

Crowley's mouth opened and closed several times, words springing to his tongue only to die there. "Surely you know...t-the mechanics...of it," he sputtered. 

"I- I feel so guilty...in wanting this, in saying it and I know this isn't your problem but...I'd l-like you to..." his words fell off.

"To what?"

Aziraphale grasped at himself, squeezing his arousal and feeling sparks flood his system. 

"I want to help you angel," Crowley was now squirming, his own arousal pressing against his impossibly tight slacks. He could see how much Aziraphale was struggling and he didn't want to 'push' him into doing anything.

"How about I...make a suggestion or two and you can...see what feels right?" 

The curly blond head bobbed up and down in agreement. 

"Well..." Crowley started, "I could... I could demonstrate how to...do it. You could watch if you'd like." His stomach flipped as he watched Aziraphale's pink tongue pop out and wet his lips. 

"I...is there another suggestion?" 

Crowley's stomach sank.

Aziraphale must have caught the way Crowley's demeanor fell because he was quick to add to his statement. "I just mean that...I'd like to be involved. I mean...I thought...I think...well..."

"'S alright angel," he treaded softly. "You can tell me anything. I'd never judge you, you know that."

"Right," the hand at his arousal began to move, fingers deftly undoing his trousers. 

Crowley's eyes were huge and trained on the movement. 

"I thought maybe...I could watch you and you could watch me and wecoulddoittogether," he finished in a rush, the sound of the zipper loud between them. 

Crowley stopped breathing, but remembered to start again as Aziraphale hooked his thumbs into his boxers and trousers and lifted his hips. Crowley scrambled up and backwards, onto the coffee table and began undoing his own slacks. He was breathing so quickly he wondered if it was possible to discorporate from anticipation. 

"C-could you take off your glasses dear?" 

"Rig-yeah, 'f course," Crowley took the shades off just in time to witness Aziraphale pushing his cream colored pants to his knees. The angel's cock sprang free and Crowley openly groaned at the sight. It was long and thick and Crowley's mouth watered as he imagined stuffing his face with it. 

"Does it look...normal?" Aziraphale asked, feeling the weight of Crowley's gaze upon him. It was amazing to him how just a stare from the demon set his every nerve alight. 

"Yah-yesss," he accidentally hissed, then cleared his throat, embarrassed. He finally managed to get his own tight pants off, which was quite a feat considering just how tight they were. Aziraphale stared at his sex unabashedly and Crowley's cock leapt and twitched. 

"So how...what's the first...erm..." 

"Ah," Crowley breathed. Right...this was supposed to be instructional. His brain had forgot. "Well, it helps to have lube," he snapped and a black bottle appeared. He poured some onto his hand and then held the bottle out to squirt some in the angel's palm. 

"Then what?" 

"Then you - ah - s-stroke your...c-cock. The lube prevents there from being too much friction," he swallowed thickly. 

"I thought friction was good?" Aziraphale's head was cocked and Crowley nearly lost it at how studious the angel was being in this moment that was so clearly...desperate. 

"R-right, but not too much of it," he brought his hand to his cock, sliding it down the length. Aziraphale's eyes darkened as he watched Crowley's movements. Then he put his hand on himself, a gasp escaping his plump lips as he stroked his own cock in a mirror effort. 

"T-there's a lot to sex," Crowley said, unsure why he was even speaking. "Y-you can touch your balls...roll them in your hand...p-play with the slit of your cock..."

"Ah...what...what about penetration?" Aziraphale asked with a rosy tint on his cheeks. 

Some ungodly sound leapt from Crowley's throat at that word and his balls drew up. Too soon...it was too soon, he chided himself. He so desperately wanted to make this last, but feared that even with a miracle, he couldn't manage it. 

"D-does it feel good?" Aziraphale asked openly. "Even with this effort?" 

Crowley just nodded exuberantly, afraid of what his tongue might confess, given the chance. 

"H-have you thought about...ah...us...doing that?" Aziraphale inquired. 

The breath in Crowley's chest stuttered along with his skipping heartbeat. "Have you?" he asked in a tone so high pitched that he didn't even recognize it as his own voice.

Aziraphale just pressed his lips together tightly to compliment the pained expression on his face and nodded 'yes.'

"Me too," he grit out, grasping at his balls to play with them. 

Aziraphale did the same and his eyes slipped shut as a long groan floated out of his mouth. Crowley wanted to commit that sound to memory. To hear it a thousand more times. To be the reason that the angel made it in the first place. 

The angel squirmed and groaned, torn asunder by the onslaught of new information and sensations. He felt a building pressure, a tingling at his spine, a tightness in his balls. His heart thumped heavily in his engorged sex and he wondered why it had taken him so long to explore sex in the first place. 

"It feels so good Crowley," he cried. "I-I want more...and I don't even know what that means..."

"It's okay Aziraphale," he assured him. "Just...just focus on the p-pleasure. Try to find what makes you feel good." 

Aziraphale's eyes focused on Crowley's...oceanic blue clinging to fiery yellow. "Having the real you here..." he spoke as he tugged his cock, "seeing you like this. Hearing your voice. That m-makes me feel good."

"Ah, fuck," Crowley was losing his battle. At those pastry sweet words his resolve splintered. His whole body tingled as his orgasm descended the stairway of his spine and tightened his balls. "I...I have to come..." he panted. 

"I want to...to see," Aziraphale whispered. 

That's what did him in. Crowley came with a shout, his cock pulsing and spilling on his legs, on the floor. Aziraphale's name was on his lips and tasted sweeter than any food made by man. He felt warmth and love wrap around him like a blanket as his vision narrowed. 

Aziraphale was quick to follow. His impressive cock twitched and began jetting come onto the floor, onto Crowley's knees. He hadn't tilted his erection back towards him as Crowley had. 

The demon wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more beautiful sight in his life. The angel glowed. His face was flush, lips parted, eyes glistening, sweat gathering at his brow. Oh how he wanted to touch. To taste. 

Finally, the angel climbed down from his high, breathing heavily and never taking his eyes off Crowley. 

Crowley brought his hand up so that he could pull down a snap and get rid of their come, but the angel's hand jutted out, lightning fast and stopped him. 

"I-I'm sure you were going to miracle away the...result..." he leaned forward, still heaving. He was a sight, even now as his cock softened and his pants remained tied around his knees. "But I...I'd like to..." he stopped, not sure if he could even say it. So instead, he reached out to Crowley's chest and swiped a finger through the demon's come. "Taste," he said finally, bringing the finger to his lips. 

That was the moment Crowley knew that even though they hadn't really had sex - hadn't even touched - that he was well and truly fucked.


End file.
